Waking this morning at around 4.20am, I get up to make a cup of tea. While waiting for the kettle to boil I snack on a few liquorice allsorts and some gummy sweets that were in the cupboard.
Back to bed, I must have dozed off for a few more hours before getting up, making another cup of tea, meditating for a short while and then deciding to take Lydia for a walk.
As I opened my eyes from the meditation, glancing towards the window I saw snow coming down.
I quickly got myself and Lydia ready to go out for a walk, in case the snow started to settle and the roads became impassable.
This morning, I insisted that Lydia had her raincoat on over her harness. She made it clear she wasn’t keen but it was so cold and the raincoat is light, and an easy fit for her. She was fine after being tempted into with a few treats.
The snow didn’t last, turning to icy rain, and it was bitterly cold. Despite her thick fur and hardy nature, I think Lydia may have been glad of her extra layer. I know I was.
Even so, and despite gloves, my hands got so cold that I can still feel them tingling, even now, over eight hours later. Still, we had a decent walk, got home and warmed up.
Later I started to get organised for a craft fair that I’m taking some of my pots to on Saturday: Boothtown & Southowram Methodist Church Christmas Fayre, near Halifax.
It will be an early start but I’ve got it planned out so that I’ll take Lydia out early and, with the car pre-packed, set off in good time to get there in good time to be able to set up my table ready for the 11am start.
Some pot pourri that I’d ordered arrived today so I made up a couple of my bowls with some clear wrap and bows: one to donate to the church raffle and one to display and hopefully sell.
I’ve got a little bit more preparation to do before Saturday, but its mostly sorted and planned now so I can start to relax into this evening, with Trev making tea and then I’m going out to a meeting of the Buddhist group.
The theme is still ‘concentration’. I do think I am starting to be able to concentrate more. I’m hoping that more sleep as well as more meditation will help.
One aspect of depression that is a constant struggle is finding something – anything – to build up my self-esteem. To a certain extent I’ve learnt to live with it, knowing that the worst moments pass if I rest up and tune in to parts of my brain that I’ve trained, using positive processes such as meditation, and affirmations: “I choose to be peaceful and calm; everything is unfolding as it should.”
I’ve identified my own truths and ‘root causes’ of past problems, and arrived at a point – in a very long and arduous journey – where I felt I didn’t need to have any aspects of these verified or vindicated by any one or any thing. However, I have found it helpful recently to have discovered the work of Imi Lo. I went through her book – Emotional Sensitivity and Intensity: how to manage intense emotions as a highly sensitive person (John Murray Learning, 2018) – highlighting many passages that I felt applied directly to me. I urge anyone who has been deemed ‘over-sensitive’ and felt alienated one way or another as a result, to read and take hope from this book.
The author states in a key point (p.45):
We are not here to dismiss the validity of all mental health diagnoses, or the importance of appropriate treatment in the case of severe psychological trauma. But it is important to examine the root of your suffering: often, it may be a reflection of your natural tendencies, and a result of being misunderstood, rather than as a sign of defectiveness. We must be extra cautious to not reinforce any restrictive categories, diagnoses and stigma around emotional intensity.
In the final chapter of her book, Imi Lo identifies possibilities for tapping into our creative potential.
It’s possible to be creative in many ways – not just through the arts. I’ve been as creative as I could be at different stages in my life and through many different types of work. However, having arrived at the point when I’m now retired, giving me a new-found freedom that I relish, I’m loving being able to re-immerse myself in solving problems associated with art and design, construction and concepts.
A significant difference that I’ve noticed between how I feel about work that I produce now, compared with work that I produced when I was younger, is that now I can feel a sense of satisfaction about having produced it. I can ‘own it’, take pride in it, see it for what it is in the context of my life; a life that I’m glad to have.
My self-esteem still falls by the wayside sometimes, but – generally speaking – I’m in a much better place than I’ve ever been. It takes a bit of getting used to, but I’m determined to make the most of it, knowing that I am – after all ‘gifted’ rather than the waste of space I often felt my self to be.
With no Qigong this afternoon, it’s the woodland walk for Lydia and me this morning, then yoga. Lydia often partakes in this remotely, being particularly good at ‘downward facing dog’!
The yoga teacher introduced a new exercise aid to the class: conkers. They formed a focus for our meditation and visualisation and I must say I enjoyed the experience of familiarisation with the seed of the chestnut tree. It was somehow comforting and inspiring at the same time.
As I now complete this latest 28-day cycle of writing, I reflect on how far I’ve come, not just since I started writing this blog in 28-day cycles a few months ago, but since I started my overall journey of recovery over fifty years ago, when I was still very young.
I didn’t know it at the time, but it essentially started in my teens, when I decided that I needed more than physical food in my life.
That may sound ungrateful as I know there are many people in the world who have less food than they need to survive. But my needs for nourishment were psychological, emotional and spiritual. They were very real for me and presented in the forms of social anxiety, depression, body dysmorphia and an eating disorder. That’s a lot for any teen to have to deal with and I hope that in writing about my experiences, it may help others to not have to go through the same.
It’s taken me a long time to work out what I needed to work out, to find pieces that I didn’t have reference points for. How could I know what I’d lost when I had no memory of having it in the first place?
For whatever reason – probably survival – my emotional brain closed down, and it’s taken me a lifetime to find ways of opening it up again. I’m still working on it, with Lydia’s help and a lot of help and support from a lot of other people along the way.
The most significant latest step for me is on the path presented by the Buddhist faith. It helps me to make sense of a lot of things, accept what I can’t change, and do my best to make the most of each day as it comes, recognising the value of what I have when for so long I was focused on what I didn’t have. Grief doesn’t go away, but we can grow to encompass a wider experience of life around it. That’s what I’ve been doing my best to do.
As I now take a couple of weeks break from writing a new daily blog, I’ll continue with republishing previous posts, looking back a bit before again moving on.
The paperback versions of my two latest books – ‘Rules, Rhymes, Recovery, Recipe, Random: Glad About Life’ and ‘A Woman, a Dog and a Blog: Writing into Life’ will shortly be available on Amazon, along with the Kindle and Kindle Unlimited editions:
‘Rules, Rhymes, Recovery, Random: Glad About Life’ brings together over 60 blog posts, from March 2020 through to September 2024.
It offers personal insights into the mental health recovery journey, recognising that there are no easy answers or quick fix solutions to complex problems but demonstrating that growth is possible through whatever difficulties life presents.
‘A Woman, a Dog & a Blog: Writing into Life’ presents a summary of my own backstory and that of my dog, Lydia. We had both experienced trauma before we met and, though I effectively rescued and adopted her, in many ways she has also rescued and adopted me.
We continue our journey together, day by day, step by step. Volume I of this book presents the first cycle of me writing a post a day for 28 days, at a time when the depression I had experienced most of my adult life had started to lift, only to reveal an underlying and extreme – at the time – sense of anxiety. Having lost everything that I’d worked for in the past, due to a severe breakdown in my thirties, I was absolutely petrified that history was going to repeat itself and that I would lose everything again, including Lydia. I was determined that wouldn’t happen and I drew on every aspect of resourcefulness and resilience I’d built up, and all the support mechanisms I could muster, to make sure that it didn’t. And it hasn’t.
Volume II presents the next 28 days of continuing to work with – and write about – positives in whatever way that I can. Affirmations, exercises, working with clay, working with words, walking, reflecting, resting, meditating – they’re all in there as I find my own way through and I hope it may help others find their way too.
On the 28th day in my latest cycle of “Writing for Life”, I reflect on how far I’ve come.
For a long time, I thought and hoped that I would eventually arrive at a point of ‘recovery’ from the difficulties and distress that I’ve been working through for most of my life.
It hasn’t worked out like that though; in fact, it’s worked out better.
I’m still not and probably never will be a ‘morning person’. I need a lot of time to rest in bed, even if I’m not sleeping. I don’t ‘seize the day’ with a leap and a jump but it doesn’t matter. I let myself be what I am while still working steadily on turning old, ingrained patterns into new ones. Big cogs take a longer time to turn and I do what I can when I can, in positive ways.
Rather than ‘recover’ to a known point, I’ve grown into the unknown; a place that is at times unfamiliar and uncomfortable. This opens up possibilities for further growth, pushing me to experience much more of life than I ever could have imagined.
It’s taken a massive amount of energy and effort and every last bit of motivation that I can muster, but I know that I have gone a long way towards training my mind and will keep doing just that.
While I take a short break from writing my daily blog, I’ll republish earlier posts. I’ll also be putting together paperback versions of my two latest books, available on Amazon for Kindle and Kindle Unlimited:
Writing a blog post every day is a challenge I’ve set myself, after several years of only being able to write a blog post every few weeks or months. It’s taken a long time to get my brain to work the way it is working now, and writing has played an important part of my recovery journey.
Getting stuff out of my head and on to paper – however, incoherent and uncoordinated that stuff was – helped with clearing out the crap. I started the process long ago, it’s only now that I can write with a sense of connectedness to my self, and a sense that it might also help to connect with others.
A lot of people may think that they “can’t write”, like a lot of people think that they “can’t sing”, or draw, or paint, or do anything much at all.
We often judge and self-limit, at least in part because we’ve been previously judged and limited by people who wanted to control us, who didn’t want to feel threatened by our presence; our potential.
I know now, quite categorically and with absolute certainty, that I can sing.
I may not sing in a way that other people would consider to be ‘in tune’ or appealing, but that doesn’t matter. I can sing.
My favourite song to sing is ‘Fairytale of New York’ by The Pogues. I used to sing it every year at work, with my mate Dave. I last sang it – loud and strong – at a Hen do.
I know also that I can write. I write because I want to and I hope that my writing may also help anyone reading it to find the sense of self that I have done, in a world that for many years didn’t make sense to me at all.
I’ve struggled all my life to identify with any kind of role; but I do now identify with the self-appointed roles that I have: writer, artist and dog trainer (not necessarily in that order and with no qualifications whatsoever for the latter).
I’ve had holding ‘roles’ before, that were part of my development and needed to be, but they have all led up to this, and the work I do now, with words, with clay and with my dog.
Glad About 
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